The 5 Stages of Grief
by Beloved Radiance
Summary: When the Damocles went down Tony thought he had lost Ziva for good so naturally he went through the process of grieving for her. This is the story of that process and how it was underpinned by a certain ninja who wouldn't leave his dreams alone. There will be 5 chapters (one for each stage) and an epilogue
1. Denial

It is frightening to realise that the biggest changes in your life are not only liable to happen without any choice on your part but sometimes, and more disturbingly, they can happen without you even knowing that they have. The 28th of May; it was now August, almost three months later and only now was he aware that the woman who had become so much a part of his life, and maybe even his heart, was gone in every imaginable sense of the word. He tried to remember back to that date but drew a blank, it was just another day amongst the months since she had left. There was no grand sign or unexplained emptiness in his heart that day and that perhaps scared him more than the fact that she was gone. She had been erased from the world and no-one, not even him, had noticed.

It couldn't possibly be true though, he thought, staring blankly at the ceiling. He had managed the rest of the day (since the news) on autopilot, feeling absolutely no emotional response to the revelation that she was gone. At first he thought it was just shock, but now, hours later as he lay on top of his still made bed, staring aimlessly into the darkness, there was still no connection to the fact that she was gone. Maybe that was because she couldn't be. She was his invincible ninja warrior who could stop a speeding bullet with a mere glance and send men twice her size flying across a room. There was no way she could have been taken by something as simple as a shipwreck.

Right now it felt like that part of every movie, just before the end where everyone thinks that all hope is lost and nothing can salvage whatever ideal the protagonist is trying to achieve, the darkest moments just before the hero finds the solution and it turns out that nothing was really as bad or as hopeless as it had seemed. But he was still waiting for the turn.

Gibbs must know more than he's letting on. I mean the silver-haired fox always had a plan, right? Gibbs was the almighty coffee swilling God, there was no way that one of his people could simply be taken away with no resistance. Gibbs ate impossible for breakfast, there was no way she could just be gone without them getting the chance to fight for her.

The one thing he had realised today, though, was that nothing that had happened in May mattered anymore. He didn't care about Michael, or Mossad, or loyalty, or betrayal; all he cared about was her and the emptiness that seemed to permeate his life without her in it. He honestly couldn't remember what his life was like without her, and maybe that was why he couldn't let go.

Amidst his hours of staring at the ceiling he must have fallen asleep, for when he next looked at the end of his bed, there sat Ziva, hair straightened and pulled back into the severe ponytail she had adopted of late, customary cargo pants and dark eye makeup which had also become a recent feature. It was as if she had never left. For a moment he just stared at her, not quite knowing what to say to her or whether she was real. A coy smirk began to curl at the corners of her mouth, she had always enjoyed being the source of his confusion.

"Putting glue on McGee's keyboard is unoriginal even for you Tony, this must be at least the third time you have done that, yes?"

She was referring to his attempt two day ago to alleviate the sense of boredom that had become a permanent feature, coinciding with her empty desk. Granted superglue wasn't original, but watching McGee trying to unscrew the cap to the nail polish remover without hands wouldn't get old anytime soon.

"Well, I was missing my partner in crime and I'm sure it was your turn to be the brains of the operation this time"

"I am always the brains of the operation Tony, you would accomplish very little without me"

"Oh, is that true little-Miss-Superior. I seem to recall the fake poison Ivy prank being all my genius, thank you very much."

"Ok, I will give you that, it was rather funny. I do not think I have ever seen anyone so paranoid over a leaf."

The anger that had defined their last meeting was gone, replaced by the easy free flowing banter that had always defined their relationship. Nothing had changed, she was still his Ziva; cocky, independent and self-assured as ever.

"I knew you weren't gone, I mean a shipwreck of all things, they couldn't honestly expect me to buy that could they? It would take an army of Zombies to take you down or a platoon of Russian mercenaries or…"

"Of course I'm not gone Tony, I'm completely fine."

She raised her hands, presenting them to him for inspection. Her beautiful tan forearms where exactly as he remembered them. No marks and with a pulse beating steadily under her wrist, she was fine, of course she was.

He looked back to her face and found the colour seemed to be draining from it before his eyes. Looked back to her hands and watched blood begin to seep from cuts criss-crossing her flawless skin.

"Tony…"

Her eyes were wide with panic and pain, her hands clutching desperately at her stomach. He could blood seeping through her green t-shirt and coating her hands. He reached for her, determined to stop the bleeding, determined not to lose her. But as his hands reached for her blood soaked ones she was no longer there.

"Ziva? Ziva, please. Ziva."

Tony awoke covered in sweat, grasping hopelessly for his partner at the foot of his bed, but she was gone. The clock on his bedside table beeped 3am and the world kept turning.


	2. Anger

It was a week later before he saw her again, a week in which there had been very little sleep and far too much work for only a three man team to handle. She sat there once again on the corner of his bed but this time it was a much younger version of his former partner that decided to intrude upon his sleep. The cargo pants remained as ever but were accompanied by wild, dark curls (which she made no attempt to tame) and a fresh face devoid of any makeup. She looked just like when he had first met her, nearly four years ago. God she had been so young then.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is working a scene with only three people?"

"No, but I have no doubt you are going to whine to me about it and I am sure that will be more painful than actually doing the work."

The brash and insensitive 22 year old was back and he didn't take any more kindly to her the second time around.

"If you got over yourself for once in your life then maybe you would still be here and we wouldn't be a man down"

"So all of this is my fault? As always no blame for anything lies with you."

"Cos you're so perfect"

"I did not kill anyone"

"I know, it's a bit of a novelty actually"

This had always been the problem with their relationship, they knew each other so well that they knew exactly which buttons to push, making arguments spectacular and explosive.

"Would have been good if you didn't go running back to daddy unconditionally as well"

"I did not run anywhere"

"Cos you're perfect as always"

"I did not say that"

"You thought it"

"Oh so you know everything in my head now, DiNozzo. That would explain why you know what is best for me and obviously why it was ok for you to go snooping through my life, because it was in my best interest and I could not possibly take care of myself."

"I was trying to protect you"

"I do not need protecting, especially by you, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself"

"Yeah sure, push everyone away as usual. This is why you're always going to be alone because eventually everyone gets sick of trying to help and just getting hurt for their trouble. You know what Ziva? I'm done, I'm glad you're gone, I'm over it. I'm sick of trying to help you and getting nothing but grief for my trouble. I'm glad you're dead."

He was breathing hard by now, their argument having escalated to the point of a shouting match as usual. This was usually the point at which she came up with something equally spiteful in return but this time the timing was off. The pause between barbs was too long. He looked up to meet her eyes and found them pooling with tears which were slowing making their escape down her cheeks. The look in her eyes made his heart sink, she looked as if someone had reached into her chest and removed her heart by force, slowly and painfully.

"Ziva, I'm sorry I didn't mean it, I'm just tired, I'm sorry"

"No, you are right Tony. I am not worth it"

The tears continued to flow freely down her cheeks as she stood at the foot of his bed. Suddenly, the pain in her eyes morphed from emotional to physical and once again her hands clutched at her abdomen, trying in vain to stem the flow of blood from wounds that arose without an origin. She was as unsuccessful as she had been at stemming the tears from her eyes.

"Tony, please, help me. I'm sorry, please just help me"

She was sobbing now, pleading with him. He reached for her but like a week before she slipped through his fingers but this time her desperate pleas didn't fade with her. Once again he awoke in a cold sweat, bolt upright but this time he could hear her voice in his head pleading with him, sobbing in a way he never thought he would be able to associate with his tough as nails ninja.

"Please Tony, please help me, please, I am sorry, just make it stop, please Tony"


	3. Bargaining

Mercifully, the following day the endless stream of cases from the preceding week finally seemed to subside. With nothing but the formalities of paperwork remaining Gibbs had granted his weary team a reprieve. Tony used the early mark to finally try and deal with the issue of his dead partner who seemed intent on haunting his nights.

As he approached the doors of the Navy yard chapel he began to wonder what he hoped to gain from this little outing. He had not darkened the doors of a church voluntarily since boarding school and honestly what did he hope to achieve from it now.

The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, bathing the alter in an ethereal glow. Tony was unsure as to whether he was glad to find the chapel empty, he really wasn't sure of much in regards to this visit to be honest. He took a seat in a pew about half way down the aisle, all the while doubting what the hell he was doing there.

"So, I know we don't talk all that often, yeah my fault I know, but I really don't know what I'm supposed to do here. I mean there's gotta be some reason why I keep dreaming about her right? But if she's dead what am I supposed to do? She keeps calling out to me, begging me to save her, Ziva doesn't ask for help, let alone beg; it doesn't make any sense. I just can't accept that she's gone, you know? I mean, at least with Kate I saw…you know, and I'm not saying I want to watch Ziva die, cos I don't, but at least maybe that way I could accept that she's gone. Part of me still thinks that she's out there somewhere calling out to me to save her and I honestly don't know whether I'm going crazy or not. I know I haven't lived up to my end of this in a while but if she's still out there somewhere please just keep her safe long enough for us to find her. Just give me another chance with her and I'll do anything. I promise you I'll try and do all the stuff I've been neglecting over the past 20 years just please give me another chance with her. I know she's still out there, she can't just be gone, but I promise if you bring her back I'll do everything in my power to keep her safe."

Even as he drove home he still had no idea what he had hoped to accomplish at the chapel but he had left with a new sense of calm and a feeling that maybe, just maybe, everything would be ok. His new state of mind stuck with him all evening as he watched Chinatown, the first film he had seen since the announcement of Ziva's death. His new frame of mind left him confident that his sleep would be uninterrupted that night, especially by her.

As ever though, she had no intention of sticking to his plans. At some point during the night the pleasant nothingness of sleep once again gave way to his darkened bedroom, again graced by the presence of his unaccounted for partner. It was again a younger version of his partner that interrupted his sleep, though not quite as young as the night before. Judging by the still wild curls in combination with the first subtle attempts at makeup and a more feminine blue t-shirt (in combination with the ever present cargo pants) he guessed they were somewhere in the Jeanne era.

"You seem more relaxed, something has changed, yes?"

"I just have this feeling that everything's going to be okay. I mean there's no way you're gone, you're my impossible ninja and I've had a word with the big man upstairs and everything is going to be just fine"

"I am glad you are so confident in that."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Well to start with you do not even know where I am Tony, let alone what they are doing to me. Even if I am alive, which you are now so confident I must be, have you considered that maybe my being alive is not as much of a relief for me as it is you?"

"Ziva, what are you talking about?"

"There are certain things Tony that are not worth living through. There is a point at which even I will stop fighting because it is simply no longer worth it, the pain is no longer worth it"

"No Ziva, I promise you, whatever is happening, wherever you are I will come and get you, I'll get you through this. No matter how hard it seems right now I'll get you through this, I promise"

"I am sorry Tony…I am just so tired, tired of all this pain. I just want it to stop"

As had been the case in her previous two incursions into his sleep, blood began to seep from a wound on her stomach. The difference today was that the wound did not simply arise without cause, but from the knife on which she impaled herself, twisting as it entered to inflict maximum damage and pain. He watched in horror as she sank to his bedroom floor with a chilling smile of contentment playing on her features. As in her previous visits he tried to reach for her but she slipped between his fingers once again. He sat bolt upright, sodden sheets still clinging to him, mildly surprised not to see the body of his partner slumped at the foot of his bed. It was safe to say that any sense of contentment he had gained that afternoon was well and truly gone.


	4. Depression

One of the defining features of their partnership had always been their ability to communicate without words, using simple gestures and more often glances to convey both tactical information and emotion. However to Tony it felt as if that connection stretched further, to the point where he was certain that the disturbing dreams that had been plaguing his sleep on and off since news of her death were in some way a last ditch communication from her, a cry for help. This made last night's dream even more disturbing. Watching the woman he loves plunge a knife into her chest because something so terrible was happening to her that she didn't want to live through it was the most unimaginably painful thing he had ever witnessed. Maybe this wasn't the time for the knight in shining armour, maybe this time the princess was finally past saving.

Unsurprisingly, sleep had proved elusive after that midnight encounter and Tony had spent the remainder of that night (or more precisely very early morning) obsessing over what could possibly be so terrible that Ziva, his Ziva, who was the strongest, most determined person he had ever met, who had already endured more than anyone else would be able to bear, would want to give up. With nearly ten years as an NCIS agent behind him as well as his time as a cop before that he had a pretty wide database of gruesome crimes inflicted on women to use as a starting point. Add to that copious amounts of Hollywood gore and Tony was left feeling nauseous.

The fact that Ziva didn't want to fight though, that was heartbreaking. One thing that he had always associated with her was this unquenchable determination and to watch her lose that fight was almost more painful than thinking about the trauma that might have led her to give up. It felt as if he had not only lost her but also who she was and he just couldn't deal with it.

While Tony hadn't been jovial in any sense of the word since the news of Ziva's death, his mood took a dramatic nosedive after that night. Both Gibbs and McGee kept a wary eye over him but as always Abby could never be passive in her concern. The moment he had entered her lab that morning, bearing evidence from their latest crime scene, he was pounced upon and wrapped in a hug that could only be described as "Abby". While he was under no illusion that his lack of sleep and emotional turmoil were evident on his face but he suspected that there might have been a tip off as well. And while Abby was probably the most open minded person he knew he thought that even she was unlikely to understand that his melancholy stemmed from his deceased partner stabbing herself in a dream, even to him it sounded ridiculous.

He had tried telling himself that the possibility that his dead partner was really alive and in trouble and trying to communicate with him through his dreams was totally absurd but he couldn't shake the connection he felt to her in that dream. While he had wished for some sort of closure as to what had befallen her, watching her fall apart was physically painful and something he never wanted to see again.

In his sleep deprived state the only possible solution was obviously just not to sleep again. In that vein, his evening consisted of a Kubrick marathon into the early hours of the morning. However, at some point the lack of sleep must have caught up with him, leaving him vulnerable to the clutches of slumber. When he next turned back to Lolita he found his partner sitting on the couch opposite him with wild dark curls framing her face. Again she was significantly younger than when he had last seen her in person and the white singlet and denim shorts suggested that this time she fell within that summer when (left unsupervised by Gibbs) they had grown infinitely closer.

"I remember the first time you insisted I watch this. You became very uncomfortable after I pointed out the similarities to us in terms of the difference in our ages. You were very insistent that the eleven years between us was in no way the same as the thirty years between Humbert and Lolita."

"We've also never been romantically involved."

"Yes I know"

"Are you alright?"

"I am so tired Tony. I do not know how much longer I can keep fighting."

"I know the feeling"

"No Tony, you do not and I hope that you never will"

"It feels like a piece of me is missing without you here"

"You need to let go Tony, I am not coming back, I cannot. You will move on, just like after you lost Kate. You will have another partner and you will keep going."

"It's not the same, Ziva. This isn't like when we lost Kate. It feels like part of me is missing without you here, how can you just ask me to move on?"

"Because I am not worth you throwing your life away for"

"Yes you are"

"You watch too many movies, Tony."

"Because I can't let you go? Because you're my best friend no matter what we've been through this year and I am not letting you go without a fight"

"What if I cannot fight anymore, Tony?"

"Then I'll fight for you"

"Please Tony, I am not worth it, just let me go"

"Never"  
"I am sorry, I never meant to hurt you in any of this but please Tony, just let me go"

And with that the blood appeared once again. Though this time it was not from a stab wound, either self-inflicted or seemingly causeless, this time the blood came bubbling from her lips as she gagged and gasped for air. As she coughed and choked blood sprayed from her lips, misting her white shirt with flecks of red that resembled a macabre piece of modern art. Though the cause had changed tonight, once again her blood was spilled and try as he might to reach her, once again he couldn't save her.

He awoke with a start to the title screen of Lolita casting an eerie glow over his living room and the salty stickiness of tear trails coating his cheeks. He knew first-hand the pain and fear of choking on your own lungs but none of that had been betrayed in her eyes. All they held was tiredness. The once bright, playful eyes that he had fallen in love with had fallen dark. He had once said that her eyes never shut up but after tonight, he really wished that just for once they would.


	5. Acceptance

After that night business as usual lost all meaning. While Tony remained certain that his partner's night time visits were more than just his subconscious torturing him that fact no longer provided any comfort in terms of the likelihood of bringing her home. He had to start to face the reality that she wasn't coming back and it hurt like nothing else. The fact that he would have to sit across from her desk every day and see only emptiness where her radiant smile should have been was something he couldn't even contemplate. It was scary to think that only 4 years ago that desk had been Kate's, how quickly they had all moved on. Yet it seemed impossible to do it again.

The bullpen was eerily quiet and while the MCRT was working at almost normal productivity (despite being a man down) it was obvious to all that the team was falling apart. Tony had turned into the mature and conscientious investigator that everyone had always thought they wanted him to be but this meant that all sense of levity and creativity evaporated. McGee had taken on an almost babysitter like role towards his senior field agent, not really trusting him to be alone. The boys had taken to sharing dinner after cases which ordinarily would have marked bonding between the two men. However little was actually said during these evenings as Tony seemed to be withdrawing more and more into himself. It seemed as if they were losing Tony too. Although truthfully, this did not really surprise McGee, Tony and Ziva had always been so intrinsically linked that they were in effect a two-for-one deal, you didn't get one without the other. And in this case you got neither.

It was after one of these dinners that she next appeared. It had been about a week and a half since he had seen her properly with the intervening nights filled merely with flashes of her, both memories and horrible imaginations of the fate that could have befallen her. This time was different though. In all her previous appearances she had been a memory, a reincarnation of a moment in their shared past that he could place chronologically. Tonight, however, it was a version of his partner that he had never seen before that stood once more at the end of his bed.

Her hair reminded him of melted chocolate, pooling around her shoulders in soft curls, framing her face which seemed to be softly illuminated by a light he could not see. The starkest difference though was her clothes. Gone were the ever present cargo pants, replaced by a billowing white dress that stood out against her tanned skin. She looked like an angel. Oh, God no…

"Please tell me you're not dead"

"I do not really know what I am anymore Tony"

"Are you in pain?"

She seemed to have to consider that for a moment, eventually replying in the negative and seemingly surprised by the realisation. He could feel the tears pooling in his eyes, desperately willing them not to fall.

"You came to say goodbye"

"Yes, and to apologise. Everything that happened with Michael and in Israel was my fault Tony, once again I placed my trust in the wrong people and yet again it was the people who I care about that took the brunt of the pain. At least now that will not happen again."

"No, don't you dare. You are not a curse forced upon people, Ziva, you are an amazing person who is able to be impossibly caring towards people even after all your previous experiences tell you not to. You are a wonderful friend and an amazing partner and…I don't know how I'm going to keep going without you."

By now he had lost the fight with the tears that were steadily making their escape down his cheeks. For the first time she moved towards him and with a hesitance that he would never have associated with her, she gently wiped the tears from his cheeks. Her touch felt more like a whisper than true contact, a memory of what could have been. She met his eyes and for the first time in a long time he saw the warmth he had always treasured in them. His Ziva was back, if only to say goodbye.

"You will keep going Tony because there is still so much more for you to do. You are the most selfless person I know and you would not be able to stop while there are still so many people out there that you can help. Please do not let me be the reason that you give up Tony, I would not be able to cope with that, to know that I was the one who ruined one of the things that I loved most about you. Please, promise me you will keep going, even if it is just to spare me from that"

He was choking on his own tears by now so returned only a nod in reply, though even that conveyed his absolute conviction. He had never been able to say no to her.

"I loved you, you know?"

"I know Tony, and I am sorry that we wasted so much time being stubborn. But even so you were the best thing in my life in such a long time and I could never be sorry for that"

He felt the ghost of her fingertips across his cheek once more and then she was gone.

* * *

While his mood didn't improve after that night, his sleep certainly did. Although coming to terms with the fact that she was really gone seemed like an impossible task, at least now he had seen her, his Ziva, one last time and at least he had finally been able to tell her. To see her one last time with warmth and laughter dancing in her eyes rather than drawn tight with darkness and pain, which seemed to have taken up permanent residence there months ago, gave him hope that maybe he would be able to keep going. All he had left of her were memories and a promise and there was no way he was going to defile either by giving up.

A week passed with no intrusions upon his sleep and he was beginning to come to terms with the fact that she was really gone. That was until one night in September when he was rudely roused from his sleep by his bedroom door being wrenched off its hinges and a child being unceremoniously deposited at the foot of his bed. Judging by the scraggly brown hair forming a matted curtain around the child's face, he assumed it was a girl. She was draped in a tan jacket far too big for her emaciated frame but it wasn't until the softest whimper escaped her that he realised that it wasn't a child at all.

When Ziva peaked through her tangled hair to finally meet his eyes he saw the full extent of her abuse. Her right eye was swollen shut with yellowing bruising, suggesting the injury was not recent and there was dried blood caked into her hairline and coating her bottom lip. She was covered dirt and grime and her eyes were empty.

"Please, Tony" she gasped "Please help me, just make it stop"

She tried to reach for him but fell short, overcome by pain and malnutrition. As she lay panting on his bedroom floor he realised that he would never be able to let go, even if there was the slightest chance that maybe, just maybe, she was still out there somewhere he couldn't keep going without trying to find her. And really without her here what else did he have?

"I'm coming Ziva, just keep fighting, I'm coming"

Screw acceptance, this was time for action.


	6. Epilogue

It was years before they actually explicitly talked about what happened that summer. After they had both resigned and Gibbs had gone off the reservation (yet again) they began spending most of their copious free time together, neither could quite come to terms with not having the other as a permanent feature in their lives. One afternoon in July they were each sprawled out on one of Ziva's couches, with the seemingly endless credits of Dead Poets Society playing. Given the stifling temperatures, Ziva had opted for cut-off shorts (that Tony was finding very distracting) and a rather lose T-shirt which left her arms exposed. Tony examined the few faint scratch marks that criss-crossed her forearms which had appeared after that fateful summer. He had noticed them years ago but had never had the courage to ask her directly about them.

He reached over and gently ran his fingertips up and downs her right forearm that was hanging over the side of the couch. Initially she startled at the unexpected contact but quickly she relaxed under his gentle ministrations. Gradually, his touches became centred on the faint scars, tracing them gently with his fingers, feeling the slight puckers marking the healed skin. She quickly realised what he was doing and tensed again. He met her eyes which conveyed uncertainty and more than a little discomfort but as yet she had not pulled away. He took that as encouragement that maybe she wouldn't kill him for asking.

"These from Somalia?"

She took a deep breath, as if mustering up all the courage she possessed, before replying with an almost imperceptible nod. Even after four years she was nowhere near ready for this conversation.

"They were one of the first things Saleem did, other than what his men did to subdue me to start with that is. The knife was so sharp that I barely felt it to start with, when I came back my doctor said that was the reason why the scaring was so minimal. He said I was lucky"

"There was nothing lucky about what happened to you out there Ziva. Are there anymore?"

She tensed again, debating whether or not to expose herself any further. Eventually she concluded that if there was anyone in the world that she would be able to share this with it was Tony, after all he had done for her this year she owed it to both of them to open up to him.

Her fingers were trembling as she pulled up the hem of her t-shirt, exposing the scar on the lower right hand side, the product of frustration in contrast to the methodically planned marks on her arms. He met her eyes once more, asking permission, before tenderly running his fingers across the puckered skin much like he had across her forearms. Goosebumps erupted across her stomach, which of course were simply due to his fingers being cold and had absolutely nothing to do with how intimate his touch felt.

"This happened after your arms?"  
"Yes…"

Her response was tentative, how could he possibly have known that? Tony felt equally disturbed, the marks on her skin matched exactly with the wounds he had played out in his dreams four years ago.

"Did they do anything else to you?"

"They used to kick me much like you would a dog. Usually it was just to wake me up. After the first few times I am fairly sure my ribs were bruised but they kept kicking me in the same spots and eventually one of them broke and punctured my lung. It felt like I was drowning, I still have no idea how I did not die of infection."

Behind Tony's eyelids he watched Ziva curled on his bedroom floor choking on her own blood, crimson flecks coating her lips and spraying her white singlet. There was no way…

"One of them pistol-whipped me once as well. I have no idea how long I was unconscious for but when I woke up I initially thought that I was dead, that they had finally killed me and I was actually glad, by that point I had given up and I just wanted it to be over"

She took his hand in her own and pressed it gently to her hairline. Under his fingers he felt a small ridge, yet another scar from her months of captivity. He was so focused on the scar that he didn't realise that he was cupping her cheek in his palm. He was about to pull away when he realised that she was leaning into his touch. As he met her eyes he noticed the faint blush staining her cheeks but he didn't remove his hand, instead he added his left hand to her right knee.

"Ziva, did you ever try to just make it all stop?"

She refused to meet his eyes, suddenly finding her lap very interesting. Gently, he moved his right hand from her hairline to her chin, tilting her face up to meet his. Her eyes were pooling with tears and that was all the answer he needed.

"Yes, never directly but I tried to make them angry enough that maybe they would snap and the damage they inflicted might have been enough that maybe I could escape. I know it sounds like a cowards way out but I just could not bear the pain any longer. The time I was pistol-whipped I thought that I might just have succeeded"

"The last thing I would ever call you is a coward"

"How do you know all of this Tony, most of this was not even in my report?"

"Promise me you won't think I'm crazy?"

"After everything we have been through together you are honestly asking me that now?"

"Alright. That summer I was a wreck, I wasn't sleeping, I wasn't doing much of anything really. But I kept having these really weird dreams where you showed up in my apartment, except that it was you from years before but from a different time each time. I would talk to you as if it was really you there, even fought with you, but every one ended with you dying and me not being able to do anything about it. The first time slash marks appeared on your arms out of nowhere, the second time it was a stab wound to your stomach, the fourth time you were choking on your own blood and the fifth you said you didn't know whether you were alive or not"

"And the third time?"  
"The third time you stabbed yourself and lay there bleeding out on my bedroom floor with a look of utter contentment plastered across your face"

For a moment they just stared at each other, finally coming to terms with how close they had come to losing each other forever. Tony tenderly wiped away the tears that had escaped down Ziva's cheeks and a heartbeat later she curled herself into his chest. On instinct he cocooned her in his arms, one wrapped loosely around her waist and the other cradling the back of her head, fingers gently threading through her curls.

"I am so sorry Tony"

"For what?"

"That you had to see that"  
"I'm not. Watching you go through that was what made me go after to you, what made me realise that there wasn't really anything left here for me without you."

He felt her arms tighten around his waist as she buried her cheek closer into his chest. The fact that she was here, breathing and with a heartbeat, was something he would never take for granted. Finally, their past (their lowest point) had been resolved and all that left was the future, and right now, that was looking pretty bright.


End file.
